More than Words
by Patricia Emy
Summary: Scully's thoughts as Mulder clings to life in 'The Sixth Extinction'


Title: More Than Words  
Author: Patricia Emy  
Classification: Scully/Angst  
Spoilers: Pilot, Memento Mori/Redux/Redux II, Fight The Future, Biogenesis,  
The Sixth Extinction  
Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, etc. belong to CC, 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox. Some of the dialogues from the X-Files motion picture and from the episode 'The Sixth Extinction' are reproduced here without permission, but they also belong to CC, 1013 Productions and 20th Century Fox.   
Feedback: Comments? Flames? Just shoot. E-mail me at   
  
Note: This is my first fanfic. Be gentle. :) I'm not shipper, and I'm not noromo either. I think I'm somewhere in the between. Thus, I believe the story will not cause any harm to neither shippers and noromos. And, just one more thing: English is not my first language [I'm Brazilian], so there could be some mistakes but I guess nothing that would compromise the understanding of the story.  
  
  
More Than Words  
by Patricia Emy   
  
GEORGETOWN MEMORIAL HOSPITAL  
Washington, DC  
  
The talk with the doctor was brief, watched closely by two guards who stared at me with a look of suspicion in their eyes. Using my credentials, I was able to obtain information about Mulder's condition, which had visibly deteriorated. They feared for the worst. I tried to hold on to the fact that, as a doctor, I'd have the required detachment to handle this in a cool and rational manner. Although my scientific approach happened to be helpful back at the Ivory Coast, I knew that Mulder needed more than a plausible explanation to what happened to him. He needed me, at his side. And, as if compelled by an equally mysterious force, I boarded the first flight back to Washington.  
  
Skinner seemed like a cornered beast in his office as he gave me the bad news, avoiding looking at me directly. After 22 hours in a plane, without neither sleeping nor eating properly, I was far from being reasonable. I knew I couldn't trust anyone, that now, more than ever, I was alone. As for Diana Fowley and Michael Kritschgau... they were just other two lost pieces in this damned puzzle. I simply refused to accept the possibility that he could be dying. All of a sudden I saw my whole belief system fall apart faced with an undeniable truth that revealed itself before me. That thing buried in that beach, thousands of miles from here, may hold the answer to everything he's been always looking for, but, ironically, I ended up uncovering.  
  
As I stepped into that room, I could hardly disguise my shock at the sight of my partner tied up to that bed. For one single moment I was no longer listening to the intermittent noise of the machines, or the muffled voices of the hospital staff members, or even their hurried steps down the corridors. All I could hear was the sound of my own breathing, and his.   
  
At very moment, I remembered the uncountable times we had found ourselves in that same situation. But the fact that I had been right here - at his bedside in a hospital room - doesn't make things easier to face. On the contrary, the pain is even worse each time. The fear of losing him, the emptiness... It may sound a selfish thing to say but when I was ill... in a sense I was relieved that it was me, and not him. I don't know if I'd have enough strength to not let myself fall into the abyss in case I had come so close to the edge as he did. But something always kept us together. A strong bond that I can't explain. It's something deep, that transcends any definition, and had built itself through all these years we had spent together, and I suspect that already existed since the beginning. We were always so close to each other and yet so far. A glance, a touch, each gesture that said more than any word could ever express.  
  
It's amazing how certain memories come back like this, from out of nowhere. When we came back from Texas, when I told him I was quitting, I remember that, deep inside, I was begging him to convince me otherwise. The way he looked at me... I could see how much I had hurt him. And, shortly after, in that desert hallway, he opened his heart to me, not suspecting that I already knew it, but had never admitted to myself, or to anybody else.  
  
'I owe you everything... Scully, you owe me nothing', he said.  
  
No, Mulder. All you had said before is the truth, but not this. I owe you more than you can ever imagine. And that's why I'm here now.  
  
Standing before his bed, I leaned in, looking for something in his vacant look that told me he knew I was there. But his eyes stared off into space. I squeezed his hand lightly, not getting any response.  
  
"Mulder, it's me", I finally whispered, "I know you can hear me. If you can, give me any sign."  
  
No answer, not even a blink of an eye.  
  
"I want you to know where I've been... what I found. I think that, if you know, that you could find a way to hold on. I need you to hold on. I found a key... the key... to every question that has ever been asked. It's a puzzle...", my voice began to break, "... but the pieces are there for us to put together and I know that they can save you if you can just hold on", hardly holding the tears, I pleaded with him, "Mulder... please. Hold on."  
  
Once more, I squeezed his hand, waiting for a reaction. And, again, nothing. I closed my eyes, because I didn't want to see him like this, lying on this hospital bed. I wanted to see him in our office, near the slide projector, with that boyish look on his face as he introduced me a new X-File. Or like that first day, seven long years ago, when he started to ask me all those questions, not happy to have someone snooping around in his basement, and, without warning, stared right into my eyes and shot: 'Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials'? Shaking my head, I smiled, the image conjuring up in the head. It's been a long way, Dana.   
  
But my smile vanished when I opened my eyes.  
  
No.  
  
I'm not saying goodbye.   
  
Running my hand through his hair, I leaned in one more time and kissed him gently on the forehead before I left.  
  
We don't need words.  
  
We both know it already, Mulder.  
  
It's not over yet.  
  
This is just the beginning.  
  
E N D 


End file.
